“Buh-bye, Chiclet teeth,” Marigold called after him.
The Lexus squealed away in a cloud of dust.
“So, your real name is Lainey?” she asked.
“Yes. My friend made the reservation here a year ago, and when she couldn’t make it and I wanted to ditch my Momster and the fiancé from hell, I took her place. It was the most perfect timing.”
“Oh, that’s because of the whole fated-mate thing,” Marigold said. “Of course you ended up here. That’s how it works. If you’re open to love, you’ll find yourself in the right place at the right time.”
“I think Miles blew it for me,” Lainey said. “I was kind of starting to think my fated mate was Tate Calloway. He actually seemed to like me, amazingly enough.”
“I know. Word gets around. And don’t sound so surprised that a good guy could like you, for God’s sake. Tate will come around, just wait. I’m still going to call you Kat, by the way. It suits you.”
Chapter Seven
The vast grounds of the Beaudreau estate swept out before Lainey, green splashed with the colors of thousands of flowers, bustling with activity as the wedding day grew ever closer. Marigold had insisted on dragging Lainey with her so she could do some sketches of the grounds now that all the flowers were planted, but then Marigold had run off to find Ginger, who was in the rehearsal hall with her family.
Lainey still felt like a heavy slab of concrete rested in her chest, but she tried to put on a cheery face as she strolled the grounds. She’d spotted the Calloway truck at one end of the property and had seen Tate standing with his back to her in the middle of a knot of people in the distance. She’d promptly turned and headed the other way.
With a sigh, she found a stone bench and settled on to it, pulling out her sketch pad and capturing the beauty of the Beaudreau mansion in flowing strokes. The sun warmed her skin and the perfumed breezes caressed her, and she started to relax a little as the bright trills of songbirds spilled from the trees.
Then childish shouts pierced the air, and she looked up to see the Calloway gang swarming towards her with Megan trailing behind. Apparently they had a Lainey-GPS, which always pointed in her direction. The idea made her smile.
“What are you drawing?” Valerie asked. “Oh, that’s pretty. Draw me, please?”
“Kids, she’s busy,” Megan scolded.
“Please?” Valerie repeated, ignoring her older sister.
“Pleeease?” Schuyler joined in. She drew out the word in a pitiful moan, and widened her big blue eyes so they were like saucers.
“Wow, she’s good,” Lainey laughed, glancing at Megan.
Megan scowled. “Only when she wants to be, which isn’t often.”
“All right, I could do a quick sketch,” Lainey said.
“Draw me, too!” Ashley said. “I’m prettier.” She stuck her tongue out at Schuyler, who let out an outraged squawk and shoved her.
“Knock it off,” Lainey said in her best dealing-with-juvenile-delinquents voice, and both kids stopped in their tracks.
“You’re all beautiful,” Lainey said firmly.
“But who’s the most beautifulest?” Valerie asked.
“You’re all equally beautiful.”
“Ugh, grownups always say that,” Ashley complained.
“Smart kid. All right, group portrait. Everybody, sit in the grass in a row. No squirming.”
“Oooh, this will take a little while, right?” Megan asked. “I’m going to go use the bathroom.”
Lainey nodded and began to sketch. It was challenging, because the Calloway kids were as squirmy as a basketful of rabbits, but after twenty minutes, she’d produced a pretty picture that the kids all admired and almost tore into pieces as they yanked at it.
Lainey glanced around. Where was Megan? How long could it take to pee? Megan had probably headed over the border and was halfway to Mexico by now, she thought. Maybe she should have put a tracking device on her before she went.
“Well, hello. You didn’t bring your fiancé today?”
Lainey started. It was Tate, and his tone was still hurt and angry.
Despite the fact that she was furious at him, Lainey still got a serious case of the tinglies every time he came close to her. Damn the man. If only there were some kind of inoculation that would make her immune.
“You’re engaged?” Schuyler sounded horrified. “Like, to a man? And you’re going to marry him?”
“Who is he? I don’t like him.” Ashley scowled and put her hands on her hips.
Lainey couldn’t help but smile at that. “I didn’t like him, either, once I got to know him. That’s why I broke up with him a week ago. I’m not engaged to him anymore.”
She heard Tate draw in his breath. He looked shocked, chagrinned, and embarrassed, all at the same time.
Ha, she thought angrily. It stung that he didn’t trust her at all, even though she knew she hadn’t really given him a reason to. Feelings weren’t always logical.